Visiting Hours
by JuliaBoon
Summary: Hannibal Lector visits Will Graham in the mental hospital. A friendship will be questioned, a murderer will be revealed and Will will be vindicated. This all happens during, Visiting Hours... R&R!
1. Chapter 1

There was no good reason why he was there. He knew quite well that he shouldn't be there, but he was. He could have done something else, he could have thought of another solution but he hadn't and it was all his fault.  
Hannibal Lector looked out across the street at the psychiatric hospital that contained his friend Will Graham. Somehow Hannibal did still consider Will his friend, somehow his twisted mind couldn't let go of that feeling of a connection; that connection that, so much like a noose, had drawn him back here, to this place. Hannibal took a step forwards and began to walk towards the building, the sun shining down upon him as if to bar his entrance. Hannibal's eyes swept over those cruel white walls that shot up into the sky and the wicked iron razor wire that curled out and around the building. The doors slid open, Hannibal strode in and approached the receptionist desk where a pretty blond women sat; her blue eyes staring directly at him. Hannibal smiled; warm but slightly wicked. She, completely unaware, smiled back and asked him who was he there to see. Hannibal replied softly, "William Graham." The receptionist nodded and filed the paperwork; she called the orderly and he ushered Hannibal to William's room.  
The halls, white here also, were tinged slightly with grey as if they were in the grip of age and the paint peeled, the flakes cascading to the floor. Hannibal scrunched up his nose slightly, the smell of fear and urine strong in the air. When they reached the end of the hall they stopped and the orderly directed Hannibal inside.  
On the other side of the door were cells, they lined the left-side of a long hall. Here the walls were the deep grey of industrial concrete and from the ceiling hung halogen lights. These cells were at the front plastic and Hannibal could see into them. As he walked down the hall he glanced at the inmates; one he even smiled at. When he reached the last cell he gazed inside and said, "Hello Will."  
From the dark depths of the cell a face emerged, it was pale and washed-out. It had dark rims around the eyes and a haunting stare. It stepped into focus and revealed its form; Will Graham looked insane, he smiled at Hannibal and replied, "Nice to see you Doctor, have you come to gloat?" he asked.  
Hannibal shook his head. Hannibal wasn't there to revel in his own mistakes, he wasn't proud of what he had done by framing poor Will, the man had merely been a readily available escape goat. Hannibal placed his hands behind his back and took a step forwards in thought. Perhaps it was time for a little dose of truth.


	2. Chapter 2

The white room was large and bright, empty except for five chairs set in the centre of the room. On one of these chairs sat Garett Jacob Hobbs, his dirty blond hair tussled and his eyes dark. Will's eyes panned the room, his mind confused and disorientated.  
How had he gotten into this room? He wondered.  
Hobbs looked up at him and spoke, his voice low like a growl, "So what are we doing here?" he asked.  
Will made a confused face but did not reply because suddenly another figure appeared, sitting in the chair opposite Hobbs. It was Abel Gideon, his face covered in stubble and his lips turned up in a smile. He too asked, "What are we doing here in this place?" Will was even more confused, he had so many questions inside his head that he thought it just might burst open. As he wondered this he began to realise why these men were here, these were men whom Will had hurt. Will felt dizzy and sat down on one of the chairs, his mind swimming. Hobbs stood and approached Will, he put his hand on Will's shoulder and said, "You know why we're here now, don't you?" Will slowly nodded. Then the world shattered and another man entered the white room; Hannibal Lector was dressed smartly in a dark blue dinner jacket, a crimson cravat and a crisp white undershirt. His blue eyes bright and full of curiosity fell on Will as he uttered, "Hello Will." Will's blood ran cold, and his face suddenly looked very tired however Will smiled and replied, "Nice to see you Doctor, have you come to gloat?" Hannibal shook his head, then he placed his hands behind his back and took step forwards. Will didn't know why Hannibal was here but he was sure to make him suffer.


	3. Chapter 3

"Will." Hannibal said suddenly, his crisp voice ringing out into the darkness.  
The dark creature almost hissed at the sound, its body recoiling in anger. It slammed its hand up against the clear plastic walls and began to bang-out a rhythm in time to its chant.  
"Let-me-out, let-me-out, in-o-cent, in-o-cent!" Hannibal recoiled, this was not the man that he had known; Hannibal suddenly realised that Will had truly snapped. This sudden revelation brought a dark smile to his lips, as he too began to chant.  
"Kill-er, kill-er, kill-er!" his voice, a soft low growl, meshed into that of Wills.  
Then Will's chant began to slow until it came to a stop, and so did Hannibal's'.  
They looked at each other in pure curiosity, both men confused about the others state of mind and motivations.  
The silence cut though the room like a knife, slashing through each of them.  
Will was the one to break the quiet, "Why?" he asked simply.  
Hannibal actually stopped and gave his question some intense thought.  
_Why indeed? Why Will? Why now? Why ever?_ These questions rattled around inside the psychiatrists head until, with still no precise answer, he replied, "Because you were there."  
Will scowled and Hannibal continued, "Because you were vulnerable, because you were interesting; not boring like everyone else. Because you were so easy to manipulate, because you were damaged, because you were there." Every little inclination, thought process or feeling came bubbling to the surface and subsequently began to spill out of Hannibal's mouth like a kind of verbal vomit. Hannibal couldn't seem to stop the flow of words and a part of him had now actually come to enjoy the relief that came with the truth.  
"Because of everything that you told me. Somehow Will I still think of you as my friend; my only friend."  
Will stared at Hannibal and smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

This strange pathetic creature before him was a killer.  
It was a killer and a liar.  
It was a fiend and a friend.  
Will had to admit something to himself, he also considered Hannibal a friend. It was sick and perverted, to have those feelings towards the man who had sent you into the nuthouse, who framed you for murder.  
Will turned sharply, his thoughts frightening him. He walked the few steps over to the cloudy mirror and took a deep look at his face. His hair, now messy, had grown a little and his face was dotted with stubble. His pale blue eyes were rimed with dark red circles and his skin was ghostly pale.  
He turned sharply back to face Hannibal and cried out, "Hannibal, you betrayed me." He seethed.  
Hannibal hung his head in shame. He knew that Will spoke the truth and could not bring himself to deny it.  
"So what do you suppose I do?" he asked the man behind the plastic wall.  
"Turn yourself in." Will breathed, even ounce of venom pressed into one single breath.  
Hannibal recoiled in horror, he understood that was what a normal person would want, especially one framed for murder but somehow Hannibal had expected more from an evolved man such as William. Hannibal knew he couldn't hand himself in, even if he wanted to; since that little voice in his head that told him to kill, to eat, still hungered more and he could not allow it to fester lest he go more mad than he already was. Hannibal shook his head slowly and replied, "No William; I'm afraid that is not possible."  
Will began to laugh, a crazed laugh that flowed out his mouth in steady streams. The noise filled the room and spread throughout the corridor up into the halls of the mental hospital; all the way out into the street outside. Hannibal could not take the sound for long and placed his hands over his ears hoping to at least block out some of the noise but his attempt was unsuccessful as when he could no longer hear the laughing first hand, a second stream of laugher began to well up from his own mind, echoing the laughter of William.  
Suddenly the laughter stopped and William yelled at Hannibal, "You're not my friend."  
Those words cut through Hannibal but he managed to keep his composure. Will didn't mean those words but he felt he had to say them, then he switched. His mind filled with the images of the dead and all William could think of was a warning, "When Evil Men Cry, the Wicked Will Thrive. When Good Men Thrive, the Wicked will Die." Will repeated the line over and over and Hannibal hung his head. He turned on his heel and left the corridor as Will still continued to repeat, "When Evil Men Cry, The Wicked Will Thrive, When Good Men Thrive, the Wicked will Die."

Hannibal walked out, back up through the door, back into the hallway with the peeling paint, out into the reception area and back through the sliding doors. The sky had darkened slightly with the passing of the day and so had Hannibal's heart. He knew deep down that he was pathetic to think that just one visit could do anything for his soul or Will's mind. It was a mess he had made and it was a mess that he knew he had to clean up; just like always.  
The next step made Hannibal want to cringe but he knew this was necessary. Hannibal looked up and blinked at the sun as he whispered to himself, "Let's get started."


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal sat in the middle of his office staring at the empty chair across from him. He so desperately wanted that chair to be filled with Will. He wanted so badly for this all to be over, he just wanted to be.  
His mind shot back to that moment, that awful moment.  
"You're not my friend."  
Hannibal hoped against hope that he hadn't meant it but a part of him also knew he had to face the truth.  
Will Graham was in jail for a crime that he himself had committed; Hannibal would never hand himself in so only one optioned remained. FRAME SOMEONE ELSE.  
Hannibal was quite adept at the forensic arts and knew how the police could "misinterpret" evidence.  
Hannibal stood, he had made his decision, and now only one thing remained. Who should take the blame?  
A name filtered through his lizard brain, floating to the surface like the flame of a single candle in a dark room.  
He stepped forwards and motioned to leave. The plan already forming inside his skull.


End file.
